


Never Where You Think You Left It

by ishtarelisheba



Series: Better to Face the Bullets 'verse [22]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-11 23:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20162254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishtarelisheba/pseuds/ishtarelisheba
Summary: After a pleasant day of driving lessons and flirtation, Belle and Rummond receive a decidedly unpleasant visitor.





	Never Where You Think You Left It

**Author's Note:**

> (Prompts - _standbyyourmantis prompted: Rummond teaching Belle to drive. You can also throw in car makeouts or whatever.  
tinuviel-undomiel prompted: Can I request a one-shot where Donat Hole shows up again, drunk off his ass on finding out Belle is married? [also Tinny: LOL he should run into them later, maybe when Belle is pregnant.])_

“What do you think of finding a backroad to try next time?” he asked as Belle turned a neat corner in the open space.

They had been practicing in the empty field out behind her father’s estate the past two Saturday afternoons, improving her handle of the Humber. She’d done _well._ It was only her own caution that kept him from putting her on an actual, albeit empty, road on this occasion. 

She smiled, turning the motorcar to face the middle of the field before braking. “I think I’m ready.”

“You could’ve done yesterday. You’re a quick pupil,” he praised, though she knew it.

Belle had that brassy look about her, full of cheek. “Where is my reward then?”

“Well, as I’m all out of merit medallions-”

“I’d settle for something just as good.”

“Just as good, hm?” he said as she leaned in.

She slid a hand behind his back to get her arms around his chest, pulling herself close on the leather seat. Nodding, she grazed her nose against his. “Better, even.”

Rummond brought his arms around her, as well, holding her, and gave her the kiss she asked for. He couldn’t begin to count the number of times he’d kissed her, or she him, but he hoped that it never stopped feeling like this. There was comfort and home in her arms. The promise of forever. Of never letting go.

For a moment, he thought the odd sensation he felt was sheer emotion making his head swim. He opened his eyes.

“Belle, love.” He barely got a word in between kisses. “Belle?”

“You’re ruining my reward.”

“You might’d better shift into park, or that won’t be the only thing at risk of ruin.”

“Oh! No!” She startled away from him, obviously just realizing how they rolled along at a leisurely pace across the field, and did as he suggested. He was chuckling when she looked back to him. “I was distracted.”

He pretended offense. “I purposefully performed no distraction.”

She grinned, cutting her eyes askance at him. “By impure thoughts.” 

“‘Impure thoughts,’” he scoffed good-naturedly.

“I’m happy to have a husband who inspires them.” She leaned for another, quicker kiss, before moving fully back to the driver’s seat.

“How would you like to drive us home?” he asked, not yet reaching for his door.

Belle had her own half open, though. “That involves a road on which other people are present. Come on, over you scoot.”

Their day had begun with a fine and full late breakfast. Mrs. Potts was always more than happy to feed them ’til they felt near popping, but she now took it as a responsibility. 

“You’re eating for two,” was the old saw that Mrs. Potts oft repeated these days.

To which Belle usually responded, “Surely ‘two’ doesn’t mean enough to feed a full ward of my patients.”

He had driven them over to drop Neal off at the Nolans’ for a very important play appointment, then it was off to the field for Belle’s driving practice. If not perfect, the day had been quite near so. The intention was to have a bite of tea before fetching Neal home for an evening of whatever they had a mind to entertain themselves with. Rummond looked forward to tempting his wife into one of their slow dances, accompanied by the Sophie Braslau record the Nolans had given them for the Victrola - a gift in response to their happy news. 

“Oh, hell,” Belle swore quietly when they neared the house. There sat a Douglas cyclecar parked at a haphazard diagonal across the grass and walkway, the object of her concern.

“What is it?” Rummond asked, slowing.

She cast a worried glance to him before returning her eyes ahead of them. “That’s Donat.”

Donat Gaston hadn’t crossed their small social sphere in more than a year, and both of them far preferred it that way. However, he seemed for some reason to be waiting just in front of their home.

A low sound rumbled in Rummond’s throat. “I’ll park close. We’ll go straight inside.”

She didn’t wait for him to come ’round to open her door, and he was glad for her hurry. They made it through the blue clematis-covered arch into their front garden before Donat came staggering out of his vehicle in their general direction. They were nearly to the door when he picked up speed, barreling up behind them on the stone walk. He was downright drunk. The smell of hard liquor came off him in waves.

“Bein’ rude to a guest, Belle? Isnnn- isn’t that below you?” he slurred. “That husband of yours has changed your sen- sensi- sensssibilities.”

“Go away, Donat, and dry out! You have no business here!” Belle scolded hotly, her fingers biting into Rummond’s arm where she held onto him.

Opening the door, he kept her close and tried to bring her behind him to get her into the house. Donat flung an arm past them and slammed a hand into the door, jerking the handle out of Rummond’s grasp, making it rebound off the iron doorstop. In the same instant, Belle stumbled back, her hands going to her belly, and Rummond brought his cane handle over top of Donat’s wrist to wrench him away a drunken step. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of their younger maids scurry into and then on through the entryway.

“Bugger off before I make you regret setting foot on our property.” Rummond felt his wife’s fingers grasping at the back of his jacket.

Donat ignored the threat entirely. His attention had locked onto Belle’s instinctive gesture of protection. “It’s like that, is it?” he sneered, his eyes trailing lazily back up to her face. “That should’a been mine.”

With an indignant huff, Belle snapped, “Shut your mouth.”

“Could’a been mine.” He leered and lurched sideways a bit before recovering.

“That was _never_ going to happen,” she bit off. “I wouldn’t allow it.”

Donat gave a wet sputter. “You would- wouldn’a hadda choice.” 

He attempted to move toward Belle. Rummond wrapped a hand around the middle of his cane and swung it, catching Donat across the jaw with the handle. 

“You’ll keep well away from her if you want to keep your teeth,” he grit out as Donat tried to shake off the blow. 

Recovering the swing, Rummond jammed the tip of his cane against the far larger man’s chest. Donat grabbed it, twisted it out of his hand, threw it hard across the garden.

“Stop! Stop this!” Belle shouted as Donat reached for the front of Rummond’s waistcoat, though he failed to get purchase. 

Rummond had a hand tightened into a fist and ready to at the very least send Donat onto his drunken arse when Dove appeared, unceremoniously scruffing their trespasser like a wayward dog. 

“Think _you’re_ a big man, do you?” Dove simply moved him out of the way ahead as he stepped over the threshold. “Allow me to relieve you of that notion, won’t you, you _drewgi siffilitig.”_

Struck dumb by an obviously unfamiliar situation as Dove frog marched the sot ahead of him down the walk, there was no fight to speak of. Rummond looked past the viburnum that flowered over the stone garden wall to watch as Donat was crammed right into his ugly little motorcar. 

Dove gave Donat’s head a whack on the frame as he put him into the driver’s seat. _“Cer i grafu!”_ he spat, and he slammed the cyclecar door so hard that it was a wonder the metal didn’t buckle.

“Let’s get you inside,” Rummond said gently, guiding Belle into the house with a hand at her back. Hiding his limp as best he could, he closed the door behind them and took her into the sitting room. 

The chamber maid who had doubtlessly told Dove what was going on, Mary, hovered in the doorway. “Sir? Ma’am? Can I help in some way?”

“No,” he said at first, then waved a hand at the girl to correct himself. “Yes. Some of that double-strength lemon cordial of Mrs. Potts’, if you will.”

Mary hurried off with a call of, “Right away, sir,” barely making it behind her.

“Are you all right?’ he asked Belle. “Do you feel- you aren’t hurt?” She hadn’t been touched, he was almost certain, but everything considered, he worried over her being upset.

She shook her head, taking his nervous hands and tugging him down to sit with her. “Sweetheart. I’m all right. Maybe shaken a bit.”

Dove came in directly, giving her a concerned look as he returned Rummond’s cane. “Shall I call the police?” The tone of his question heavily hinted at his opinion on the matter.

Rummond looked to Belle, but she seemed at a loss. “Yes, I think perhaps that would be best,” he at last answered, and with a nod, Dove left.

“How can he think he has any right to come around?” Belle began quietly, growing gradually louder in her anger. “He came to our home drunk and belligerent and intending who knows what, saying the- the _things_ he said. Rum, he _waited_ for us to arrive home so that he could accost us!”

“And he’ll soon be gone,” Rummond promised.

She sniffed, welling up with tears, and made a sound of disgust. “It was a lovely day before he turned up.”

“I’d say we ruined _his_ day. Don’t allow him to ruin yours, love.” Pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket, Rummond pressed it into her hand. He stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek as she buried her face in the soft linen for a moment. “I’ve an idea. Why don’t we go and fetch Neal? We could have Dove drive us, go out to Bath and spend a night, see some sights before coming home tomorrow?”

Belle looked up at him, his handkerchief still held across the rest of her face. She wiped her nose and gathered the cloth into one hand. “Bath is more than an hour and a half drive.”

“I feel up to it if you do, and Neal will be thrilled by an impromptu adventure,” Rummond said, hoping to tempt her. He fully believed that they were safe. Even did the police not arrest Donat, he knew that their staff - Dove, for the most part - would be keeping a sharp eye out for the cad.

Thoughtfully, she nodded. “That’s a good idea,” she agreed and sniffled once more. “A Sunday outing.”

“I’ll throttle him with my bare hands,” Mrs. Potts said, bringing in the glass of lemon cordial herself. She handed it off to Rummond and rubbed comfortingly between Belle’s shoulderblades.

“I’m all right,” Belle assured her. “Please, both of you. I’m certain it’s half hormones just now, being affected so. I’m made of sterner stuff than to allow that lout to make me ill with his behavior.” She looked back to Rummond. “I do want that drive into Bath, though.”

“Drive?” Mrs. Potts asked. “Tonight? That far?”

Rummond cleared his throat and set the glass on the table in front of them, quite forgetting that to inform Mrs. Potts of an outing was something akin to asking permission. Particularly of late. “Only one night away with Neal along. You might wrap up that tea for us to take?”

“I’ll see to it that you’ve some things packed, as well.” She appeared appeased by the request posed as a question. With an affectionate pat to Belle’s cheek, she headed back in a kitchenward direction. “Won’t take me a few minutes. I’ll have it waiting by the door.”

Lifting a hand, he cradled his palm at the far side of Belle’s jaw, and he leaned to brush a kiss over the corner of her mouth. “We’ll leave as soon as everything is settled outside, hm?”

Dove filled the sitting room doorway once more. “The police have been notified of a violent trespasser and are on their way.”

“They’ll have a devil of a time doing anything.” Belle fussed with Rummond’s handkerchief, folding it small. “Donat will be sober and have a dozen witnesses to claim he was at the club by the time they actually find and speak to him.”

With a slight and smug smile, Dove stepped forward, taking a bit of flannel from his pocket. He opened it over his large hand to show her a set of four sparking plugs liberated of their engine. “I don’t believe they’ll have a problem finding him, ma’am, will they.”

Rummond snorted a laugh. Belle’s own lips twitched for a moment with suppressed laughter, and she placed a hand on Dove’s arm. “Thank you.”

“No trouble at all, was it.” He tucked the pilfered motorcar components away again, clearly proud of himself, and turned to go. “I’ll just be keeping an eye out for the police to arrive.”

Belle leaned into Rummond and laughed softly again. “I’m glad he’s on our side of things.”

“Mm. I wouldn’t want to be on a side he isn’t.” He rested his nose against her temple, holding her snug to his side.

“I’d never imagined anyone could march Donat off like a ragdoll the way he did.” She looked up at Rummond. “That was cathartic.”

He grinned. “I _could_ arrange for a repeat of that scene anytime you like. I’m quite certain Dove wouldn’t mind.”

Belle sighed as though she had been holding her breath since being confronted with their intruder. He closed his arms around her, squeezing her tightly, and began sorting through where he might find a good family watch dog.

**Author's Note:**

> (Takes place mid-May 1921.)
> 
> Translation for Dove's bits of Welsh:  
_drewgi siffilitig_ \- syphilitic stink-dog  
_cer i grafu_ \- go and scratch (go away)


End file.
